Expectations
by Risti
Summary: Missing moment before "Keep Holding On" in "Throwdown." Quinn knew she couldn't stay in the bathroom stall forever, even if it had started to feel like home lately.


**Title:** Expectations  
**Warnings:** Pro-life opinions.  
**Characters:** Quinn, Kurt, (Gen)  
**Rating:** PG-13 (for themes)  
**Spoilers:** Up to episode 1.07  
**Disclaimer:** Glee and all of it's characters are the brainchild of Ryan Murphy, and I don't own any of them.  
**Author's Notes:** I've never been pregnant, and am not completely sure of the accuracy in the show's depiction of a pregnancy timeline, but I tried to take what has been shown and combine it with some observations I've made of friends who have had children. Also, this isn't the first teen!girl!angst! fic I've written set in a school bathroom. I'm not sure what that says about me...**  
**

Quinn knew she couldn't stay in the bathroom stall forever, even if it had started to feel like home lately. She found herself running here just as much in the afternoon as the mornings, and lately, in between every class. It was this that led Quinn to come to school early and stay late even on the rare occasions when she didn't have Cheerios or Glee practice.

Anything to avoid being at home.

Quinn looked down once again at the white shirt in her hands before ripping off the tag, chucking it into the toilet and watching it flush away. Digging her nail file out of her back pack, she went to work on the sewn on tag at the neck as well, the dull metal tip catching on the embroidered calligraphy spelling out _Expectations_.

She tried not to think of the way even the store clerks had _stared_ at her when she'd bought it over the weekend.

At first, Quinn noticed her several-times-daily trips to the bathroom seemed to be making her _lose weight_. This had even led her back to the pharmacy across town, where this time she grabbed _all_ the different brands of tests on the shelves. Maybe there had been some sort of mistake.

Her new found optimism wasn't diminished by the smirk of the cashier.

The next morning she'd washed her hands over and over again in the school washroom, her wasted money and stupid dreams buried in the trash. For the next hour, until classes started, she stayed in the bathroom, drawing a caricatures of Rachel Berry inside one of the stalls.

Over the next few weeks, it had became a sort of routine. Come in the bathroom, puke or pee, or sometimes both, and then draw a picture of Rachel while sipping from a bottle of Gatorade. It's not that it never crossed her mind that there were _other ways_ out of her situation. It was just that after becoming Case Study Number One of the celibacy propaganda she'd be force-fed her whole life, Quinn felt like she'd rebelled quite enough, thank you. Besides, she'd seen enough pictures to know even before her ultrasound that her baby was already a baby, even if it was the size of an apple.

Quinn allowed one hand to rest on her hardening abdomen. Over the last couple of weeks, the changes to her body had become undeniable. Sure, she camouflaged them by borrowing one of Santana's cheerio skirts (she'd always been curvier) and by announcing to the team that it was time they started wearing their sweaters daily as part of the uniform, but Quinn knew what she was hiding.

The looks she'd received over the past few days in the halls suggested the rest of the school knew too.

Her little Apple was really there. Not that she'd _ever_ tell Finn she couldn't stop thinking of her as that. She wouldn't let him name a baby that wasn't even his.

That thought opened up yet another wave of emotions, and screw these hormones, Quinn knew if she let herself go down that road, she'd never manage to get enough control over herself to make it through today's practice. Throwing the loose cotton top over her head, Quinn grabbed the pair of black pants still sitting in her bag. She quickly ripped those tags off as well. Under the stares of the middle aged woman in the maternity store, Quinn had simply grabbed the first pair of black pants she'd seen, one size larger than normal. Now that she put them on, she had to laugh.

Not only did they look like something her grandmother would wear to church, they were so huge on her Quinn knew they'd fall down as soon as she let go.

Looking down, Quinn confirmed that the pants had belt loops. She was going to look fuglier than a post-slushie Rachel, but she supposed she had better just get used to that. She'd borrow a belt from one of the other girls, and get through this joke of a dress rehearsal. At least there would only be her fellow gleeks around to witness her humiliation. Gathering her things, careful to keep one hand holding up her pants, Quinn stepped outside of the bathroom stall.

The only person in the room had their eyes glued to the mirror, fixing their hair.

"The lighting is better in here," Kurt said, before slowly turning around to face her, his eyes daring her to protest until he seemed to take in what she was wearing. His "Oh honey, no," may have been mumbled under his breath, but Quinn still heard it.

Quinn's eyes dropped to the slim white belt around his waist. It complimented his white jacket perfectly, of course, but maybe there was a chance... Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to ask.

"Do you remember your seventh birthday party, the year you invited the entire class, boys included?"

Quinn blinked. "Vaguely," she said after a second of silence.

"You had the most amazing barbie doll collection. I played with them for _hours_."

Quinn smirked. "I remember that, now. My mom kept trying to get you to go in the other room where the boys were fighting over video games, but you just kept politely refusing."

"It was one of the happiest moments of that year."

Quinn paused, unsure of what to say. She hadn't thought of it in years, but she did remember that school year, when Kurt seemed to miss almost as many days as he was in class, and their teacher had them all write cards and send books along with him to bring to the hospital. When his mom died after Christmas, Kurt came back to class full-time, but barely spoke a word to anyone.

"Look, Kurt..." Quinn trailed off, thoughts derailed by the boy who had grown up without a mother. "Do you think I could borrow your belt?"

This made Kurt grin, and his eyes swept over her once again. "That top is actually kind of pretty, but those pants are the fugliest thing I've ever seen."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Thank you, queer eye, for your insightful yet witty commentary."

"Oh don't even start. This is the cliche part of the Full House episode, where the cheesy music starts." Kurt had begun digging through his bag.

"What are you talking about?"

"Here!" Kurt said, holding out a pair of black jeans. "They're..." He hesitated.

"They're _what_?"

He gulped. "They're my fat girl pants."

"Excuse me?"

"You know. They're my reserve pair of pants for the days when I just feel fat. Super stretchy, super low rise, they're great for the days I overload on carbs in the cafeteria. Plus, they always make my butt look great."

He was holding them out towards her, and Quinn could now see that they were a designer woman's label. Reaching out to grab them, she let go of her grip on the pair she was wearing, and they quickly fell until the crotch was at her knees. Stepping out of them as delicately as she could, Quinn then slipped on the fat girl jeans.

They were cropped at the ankle, and super fitted. Yet the waistband sat below the growing bulge on her abdomen, and was indeed stretchy enough to not be constricting.

"So," Quinn bent down to shove the other pants into her bag. "How does my butt look?"

"Fabulous, darling."

Kurt's natural drawl was thicker than usual, and when Quinn looked back up at him and saw the grin on his face, she knew it was on purpose. They both cracked up laughing.

"I can't believe I threw out the tags on those before I even tried them on."

Kurt's eyes bulged. "Why would you ever do that? You _never_ buy clothes without trying them on first. Never mind. We'll hit the mall together over the weekend, and I'll _make_ whatever store sold you those give you your money back. _They_ should be arrested for crimes against fashion."

Quinn wanted to agree, but the thought of Kurt and her walking through the mall together was accompanied by snickers and pointed fingers, in her mind.

"You still have a choice, you know."

Quinn looked at Kurt, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact by checking himself out again.

"When you know they're going to notice you no matter what," Kurt said, taking one last look in the mirror "you still get to choose what they're looking at."

And then he settled the strap of his designer bag over his shoulders, and before Quinn had a chance to realize what was happening, she found herself engulfed in a brief yet close hug.

"Besides, _I'm_ still jealous of you."

"You are." Quinn's tone was dripping with disbelief.

"Of course. I'm head over heels in love with your boyfriend, but there's no way I'll convince him to explore outside of his narrow box of heterosexuality while his thoughts are filled with being a daddy."

Kurt said this with a straight face, but Quinn knew he was trying to make her laugh. The problem, of course, was that Quinn couldn't help but sense the sincerity behind the words Kurt wanted her to take as a joke, and they clashed with the lies he didn't realize were at the foundation of his statement.

So she cried, instead, and this time Kurt's hug was longer.


End file.
